Childhood Memories
by Makenna
Summary: The life of Murtagh. PLEASE review!
1. Chapter 1

Murtagh stared at his mother's cold, pale form. Only a slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his emotions: he was well trained. He watched her face, as the color was drained and it turned white. Murtagh feared she was dead. A tear almost escaped down his cheek but he shook his head to rid his eyes of it. Morzan stood by him, looking down at his wife with a mixture of loathing and indifference.

"Alrigh' come on boy." Morzan made to leave the room, but Murtagh did not move. "Did you hear what I said?" snarled the man he so grudgingly called father. Morzan grabbed him by his hair, and half dragged, half yanked him out of the room; Murtagh screamed in protest all the way down the hall. Morzan walked out of the doorway of the castle in which they lived, meanwhile dragging the howling child along. As soon as they had gained open air, he threw Murtagh heavily in the mud. "Get up!" shouted Morzan, kicking Murtagh in the chest, so he flipped on his back. "UP!" he roared, jabbing the heal of his boot into Murtagh's stomach. Murtagh quickly rolled on his side to keep from choking as blood spurted into his mouth. He spat it quickly out, and then clutched his stomach. Morzan looked at him with that same look of loathing he had so lately given Murtagh's mother, and Murtagh looked up at him with hatred. "You're weak," observed Morzan, with something between a sneer and a grimace, "just like your er, late mother." This was too much for Murtagh. With a wild cry he lunged at his father, who laughed and sent him tumbling backwards by magic. Morzan did not stop there, slowly, he drew his sword. Murtagh was unprepared, as Morzan threw the blade towards Murtagh renting his flesh and sending spasms of agony throughout his body. He screamed, and collapsed limply on the ground. Morzan looked at him for a moment, then went and picked up his sword. Before stumbling back inside, he wiped the blade clean on, what he thought, was his dead son's tunic.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Morzan was inside, a healer rushed out of a side door and ran towards the injured boy. She had a great affection for him, for he was not proud and cruel like his father. She knelt beside him and moved his hair to feel his forhead. He was warm, she checked his pulse, and she could feel the weak beat of his heart as it wearily held on to life. She picked him up, wrapping him in a cloth to try to slow the bleeding until she could sew it properly. The cloth was soon stained a horrible red as the boy began to near death. 'If it wasn't for this boy,' muttered the nurse to herself as she laid him, face down on the working table, 'I'd have left this cursed castle long ago!'

The cut, surprisingly was not deep, but very long, stretching from shoulder to hip, and he had already lost so much blood. She began to worry. She worked diligantly, sometimes having to mop her forehead as sweat beads rolled into her eyes. Finally she was finished. She had sewn up his side, and bandaged it just for good measure. He had not stirred yet, and this worried her, but she could do nothing more for him. She left him to rest, and made some tea.

Murtagh awoke, painfully. He tried to get up, but his back screamed out in protest if he moved it an inch. "W-where am I?" was all he could say.

A cheery voice answered him, "Ah, you're awake. thank goodness. Do you think you could handle some tea?"

"Oh, it's you." Murtagh visibly relaxed and a look of relief swept on his face.

"Yes," answered the healer. "And now, I think, for your own safety, you must flee from this house. You know only too well what your father thinks of you, and what he is capable of doing if you stay."

Murtagh shook his head (well a sort of shake, as he was still lying on his stomach and so his cheek was pressed against the rough wood of the table) "I will not abandon her."

"Who is this that you would risk your life for?" asked the Healer, suddenly intent."A young lady?"

"No, not like that. It's different. My mother." Murtagh closed his eyes, and, although he strove to hide it, the Healer noticed a tear slide down his face.

"Aw, there, there. Don't worry, she'll be fine." The healer didn't sound very convinced of it herself. In fact, she was certain that the woman was now on her deathbed.

Murtagh glared angrily at her. "You know that isn't true! Just look what he did to me!" He reached back with his hand, clawing to feel the damage on his back. The bandage covered it, but he could just feel the stitches under it.

"Well at least your alive."

"Exactly. She may not be so lucky." Murtagh reached with his hand to move his hair out of his eyes, to hide another tear that had stolen down his cheek.

"All the same, you should escape while you still can. It would do no good for your mother for you to both die here."


End file.
